


A Turn Up For The Books

by fezwearingjellybananas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5224622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fezwearingjellybananas/pseuds/fezwearingjellybananas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times he saw he; four times he lost her. Perhaps it just wasn't meant to be</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Turn Up For The Books

"Hi. That seat empty?"

"Be my guest."

"Thanks. Oh, I should probably warn you, I don't do well in planes. Not great with heights, or places where I can't get out."

"Yeah, I know how you feel. Should be all right though. I'll keep an eye on you."

"Thanks." She pulled something out of her bag. He gave her a questioning look. "Crochet. It helps take my mind off things."

"It's pretty, I like it."

"Thanks. So, why're you heading to Greece?"

"Oh, you know, finished school, off to Uni in September, I have some business over there."

"Oh? What sort of business?"

"Party business." He smiled. "You?"

"Just your average eighteen year old trip with friends and without parents. You know."

"Nice. Might see you over there."

"Might see you on the way back."

"Yeah, maybe."

"So, what's a Scot like you doing flying from Gatwick?"

"It was a cheaper flight."

A light started to flash, telling them to fasten their seatbelts. A quick safety briefing and they were off.

The two continued to talk, especially after they found a common interest in science.

And when it was time to go they parted ways, each with their own separate groups of friends.

He turned around.

"Wait! I never caught your name."

But she'd gone.

* * *

She wasn't on the flight back, or if she was, he didn't see her.

But it wasn't the last time he saw her.

* * *

He sat in the crowd, cheering on his own Cambridge to win the Boat Race, when he caught sight of a pretty girl on the opposite side of the river, cheering on Oxford. She looked familiar.

The girl from the plane.

He waved, catching her eye. She smiled widely and waved back.

Once the race was over (Cambridge taking the crown for the men, Oxford for the women), he was determined to go and find her, but they both must have got caught up in the crowd, because neither found each other.

* * *

The next time he saw her, she was standing in the airport, near one of the gates. He rushed over, only to have his path blocked by two men who, unbeknown to them, stopped him reaching her before she went through security.

He wondered how she was doing. Was she still so nervous of flying? Where was she heading?

His flight landed, a train caught and his final destination almost reached, he headed out to catch a taxi. A woman stood waiting for one.

A car pulled up beside him. He opened the door, saw the lady still waiting and called over to her.

"Here. You take this one. I'll wait."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Here, let me give you a hand." He carried the lady's luggage over, helping her put it in the boot of the taxi and stood back, finally catching her eye.

It was her. The girl.

He tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat and before he had the chance to untangle his tongue, the taxi had left.

* * *

The lecturer left, leaving the group to go and set up their rooms. He looked around, pleasantly surprised by the size, the view and his assigned roommate.

He headed down to find something to eat, eager for some decent food after his long journey. He stumbled in the corridor, almost walking into a pair of feet.

"Sorry," he said, looking up.

"No, don't worry, I'm sure it was an accident. Oh. Hello again." He looked up, seeing the girl again.

"Hi."

"I thought I saw you at the airport."

"Yeah. Wow. This is a turn up for the books. Fancy seeing you here."

"Likewise. Which course are you doing?"

"Engineering. You?"

"Biochemistry."

"Nice. I see you finished your crochet then," he added, noticing her cardigan. The same one she'd been making all those years ago.

"Yeah. I got over my fear of flying too, so thanks for the help."

"Oh, don't mention it. I do that to all the girls. No I don't, I don't normally talk to strange people on aeroplanes."

"No, neither do I. You know, I never actually caught your name."

"Leopold Fitz. Call me Fitz. Everyone does. It's better than Leopold." She let out a small giggle.

"I'm Jemma Simmons. If you're going by Fitz, I guess I'm going by Simmons."

"Will you look at that, our names ever fit together. Guess this was just meant to be."

"I suppose it must have been." She held out her hand. He shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you Leopold Fitz."

"Likewise Jemma Simmons. Shall we?"

They headed down to the dining hall together.


End file.
